


Cruising, a Lost Art Form

by velvetcryptid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, convenient time travelling restrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:36:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8674747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetcryptid/pseuds/velvetcryptid
Summary: Written for the spn kink meme prompt: Dean's hero worship of his father turned into a full blown crush by the time Dean was in his teens. Dean masturbated to thoughts of fucking/getting fucked by his father so many times. It's been his guiltiest secret and something he's never told anyone. He lived with the fear of his father finding out for so long. So when Dean goes back in time and meets his dad when he was younger (maybe a bit further back in time than the canonical time travel episodes; to a time before John was dating Mary) he know this is the only opportunity he'll ever have to act on his fantasies, even if he feels guilty as hell about it.original prompt here: http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/116811.html?thread=42531403





	

“ _How was Sam's day at school?”_ The text read.

 

“ _How about you ask him yourself?”_ Dean thought, clenching the phone in his hands.

 

First day of school and the boys woke up to not a father, but a note on the kitchen table reading, “Vamp nest in the state over, handling it with a friend,” and a roll of cash held together by a rubber band.

 

Dean couldn't believe it. He could, really, but he didn't expect their dad to leave so soon. Just last night, Dean hauled his drink-blind dad from the bar back to their shoddy rental. Dropped him on his bed, helped take his boots and leather jacket off. But John went on to take everything else off. Dean stayed and watched, putting his weight on his foot closest to the door. John rolled onto his stomach, giving Dean a front row seat to his briefs straining over his ass, and mumbled a “thanks son” when Dean fled into the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

 

Thinking about it again, Dean looked into restroom mirror. After dropping by the house to make sure a surely solemn Sam was asleep, Dean went to the bar he carried Dad from. The only bar in town. He showed up in a tar smeared jumpsuit, fresh from the garage, and looking to follow in his dad's footsteps. Dean splashed his face with cold water and stepped back out into the bar. Being reminded that your Dad got you hard warranted a few drinks, he thought.

 

He walked up to the bar and ordered a beer. Sitting down in a stool, he took the place in. A pool table here, a biker gang there, neon signs all around. And what was this shit playing on the jukebox? Old, even for his taste. Said taste a courtesy from his father. Just like last night's shower jerk off. He took the beer handed to him with a smile and took a deep swig. Giving a satisfied sigh, he looked off to the side and saw a guy nursing a drink and a look Dean knew all too well. The same look his Dad had every time Dean and Sam came along on a hunt. Dean looked at that dark head of hair and thought that maybe tonight didn't have to be all bad.

 

* * *

 

 _What the hell_ , he thought. What's there to be nervous about? Everyone in here is looking to get drunk, forget things, just like himself. He lifted his glass and took a small sip. Wincing at the burn, even worse than when Christopher let him take a swig from his parents' liquor, he looked up and coughed a fit when he saw a man walking towards him. Sweating when the man took the stool next to him.

 

“Look a little young to be in a place like this,” the man said. Green eyes resting on his.

 

“No younger than you,” he said He took another sip from his glass and winced.

 

“Stronger than you're used to, huh?”

 

“What? No, I,” cough “ it's this music. Not really my thing.”

 

“And what is your thing?” Green eyes took a swig from his beer.

 

Suppressing the next cough, he closed his eyes and said,”Heard the new Rolling Stones?”

 

“Nah, I'm into the oldies. Oldies but goodies, you know?”

 

“Sure.”

 

He kept his eyes on his glass and the man turned to face him from his stool.

 

“You wanna go for a drive? I could show you some of my music. And, I got more of what you're drinking in the trunk.”

 

He froze and clenched his glass hard, sweating in his denim jacket. Was he... Did he know? No. Was he giving off any...signs?

 

In a week, he thought. Just one more week until...

 

He looked in those green eyes, smiled and said, “What the hell?”

 

* * *

 

Music playing on the radio; Dean did have the album the guy mentioned. He thought he said “new” Rolling Stones, but he probably meant new-to-him. They were on the road, passing by short buildings, mom 'n pop shops, headed towards a spot in the woods. Safe now, free of the wendigo Dad dragged him and Sam along to this state to take care of in the first place. Perfect for shy little high schoolers to suck face past their curfew. But now it's perfect for Dean, hoping to take it further than that. Those kiddies aren't coming back anytime soon after last week's headlines.

 

“Going a little strong back there don't 'cha think?” Dean asked.

 

“What?” The guy asked. Dean turned down the music.

 

“You. Lookin' serious at the bar. What's got you troubled?”

 

“I'm shipping out next week.”

 

“Yeah? You military?”

 

“Newly. I was drafted. For the war.” Dean stayed silent when the guy didn't say anything further, Glancing at him he looked... what was the word Sam used on his English assignment? Solemn. The guy looked solemn. What was that teacher doing giving homework out on the first day, anyways? Thank God he already dropped out.

 

They were close, stray branches crunching under the Impala, leading to uneven terrain into the woods. The only war Dean knew was going on was the one in Afghanistan. A little too much small talk, and the guy was probably was looking to forget about it for a while anyways, so he left it at that.

* * *

 

 

Hazy from the booze, lazy from the drive, dazey from the radio. This last hurrah wasn't as pathetic as he'd thought it would be. The real beaut of a car crept into a clearing in the woods and the guy turned off the engine. The full moon the only light around this far out of town.

 

“Hey buddy, what're we doin out-” he started, cut off by the guy's mouth on his own. Both their boozy breaths burning up his nose when he pulled away, eyes wide.

 

“What?” The guy asked, his hands in the middle of undoing his belt.

 

His cheeks flushed, from the kiss and the liquor. He put his hands on top of the guy's hands and said, “Listen, I'm not really into that free love thing, alright? I was just lookin' for a good time and-”

 

The guy leaned in real close, green eyes moonlit and right in his face and said, “And this isn't a 'good time' to you?” He slipped his hands out from under his own and cupped him through his jeans. He let out a groan and turned redder.”You're shippin' out, right? Don't you wanna have one last tumble on good ol' American soil?”

 

He turned his head away and pressed it against the window, his breath steaming the glass in front of him. “I... fuck. Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He nodded against the window.

 

He felt kisses on the side of his face and down his neck while the guy undid his belt and tossed it in the backseat. Calloused hands went up his shirt and rubbed at his hips for a moment before unzipping his jeans. Lifting up his hips was the only help he could give at the moment while his boxers and jeans were slid down to his knees. He whimpered when the kisses stopped and damn near cried when those lips wrapped around his cock head.

 

* * *

 

Dean's good, he knows he is. He takes it all the way down to the coarsely haired base. He moaned, appreciating that this guy was _au naturel_ and knowing he could feel his throat vibrating from the tip of his cock all the way down. He felt a hand run through his hair and bobbed up and down. Smirking around the shaft at the moans his pick-up was letting out, he popped off.

 

“The rest of this would go way better in the back.” He said, looking up. The guy nodded his head and went out the passenger door. Dean laughed and rubbed at his own hardon through his jumpsuit at the sight of him stumbling through the door with his pants halfway down and dick swinging in the air. He reached into the glovebox to grab another one of his wallets and followed him to the backseat.

 

* * *

 

While waiting for the man who's giving him the best head he's had in his eighteen years of life to jump into the back seat with him, he busied himself with taking off the rest of his clothes and tossing them into the front seat. The creaky doors opened and the guy let himself and more of the autumn air in with a wallet in his hand. He placed the wallet at the edge of the seat next to his own bare outstretched legs, leaned in, and sealed his lips around his leaking cock. He splayed out his thighs and knocked the wallet open into the footwell. He decided against rolling his eyes into the back of his head because God, that mouth, and focused on the card in the see-through flap. He strained his eyes against the wet sound of his cock getting sucked but could only make out a date: 01/24/79.

 

He was so close and didn't want that damn fine mouth off his dick so he patted him on the side of his face and asked, “That a Trekkie thing?”

 

He thought he was gonna burst right then when that mouth pulled off, a string of spit and pre cum trailing from his cockhead to the man's bottom lip, and gave him a ,“Huh?”.

 

“Your card says '79. Figured it was Trekkie thing, pretending you're from the- ah!” He arched his hips off the seat and clenched at the sudden slick finger knuckle deep in his ass. He reached down and grabbed at the connected wrist. He hissed when the finger curled up and touched something amazing in him. “I, I've never.” He said through clenched teeth.

 

“I guessed,” the man said and leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips. “Will 'ya let me, though? Huh? I'll make it so good for you, babe.”

 

He lay stiff, clenching around the finger in his ass, and looked up at the stars through the window and thought about how he might never see this sky again and figured, _What the hell?_

 

* * *

 

The guy nodded his head and Dean sat up and pulled his finger away to undo his jumpsuit. Just enough to to take off his undershirt and to spring his dick free from his boxer briefs. He grinned when he heard the other gasp at the sight of his dick slapping against his abs when he pushed his underwear down. He picked up the packet of lube from the footwell, covered his fingers, and got to work

 

He went slow, wanting to savor the moment; never popped anyone's cherry before. Two, three fingers in and the occasional curl of the fingers, Dean thought he could come with just the sounds the guy was making and the way he writhed around his fingers. He was still whimpering when Dean slipped his fingers out and slipped on a condom. Usually Dean would make the fuck-ee put it on for him, maybe even with their mouth, but he figured this one wouldn't be any help with him next to crying.

 

* * *

 

It was too good. Fuck, it was good. He'd heard stories before from his buddies: their girl wanting to slip a finger in them. But he never thought it would be this good. He was pretty sure he was red all over and about to spill a few tears when those magic fingers pulled out of him. He heard a metallic rip and risked a peek from behind his hands to see him pull a condom over his cock. He wiped tears from his eyes and saw that he was thick, thicker than the fingers used in him. Letting out a whimper louder than the rest, he felt his cockhed pressed against his hole.

 

“It's okay, just breathe, babe.” He let out pathetic little gasps of air as he felt hands running down his chest. They swept in circles and landed on top of his wrists. “Come on, lemme see you.”

 

Gentle tugging at his wrists, he let him remove his hands from his face.

 

* * *

 

Jesus, the guy was a mess. He was making noises louder than half the girls Dean's fucked. While a good chunk of them laid down like a starfish under him, this guy couldn't catch his breath and Dean was feeling pretty proud of himself.

 

“See, wasn't too bad, right? I'm all the way in,” he drawled. He rocked his hips to prove it and the man under him moaned and used his free hands to pull Dean close and wrapped his legs over his ass.

 

“M-move,” the guy breathed out.

 

Dean smirked. “My pleasure.”

 

He rocked in and out, slowly at first. Easy thrusts into almost too-tight heat earning whimpers in time. Pre-come coming from the whimpering mess slicked their lower chests. He took pity on the man and reached between them to stroke his cock. He gently pressed his thumb into the slit of his cock and asked for his name.

 

“C'mon, gimmie something to remember you by,“ he said into his ear. His response was mumbled into Dean's shoulder. “What was that?” He sat up, still thrusting and giving the guy room to breathe.

 

“John. M'names John.”

 

* * *

 

He let out a whimper at when the thrusts stopped. He stroked his cock and used his other arm to punch at his shoulder. “Don't stop, fucker.”

 

The man's green eyes darkened and his hand was yanked from his cock and he let out a yelp when he pulled out and flipped him onto his stomach. He bit and yelled into the leather seat when he felt that cock push into him. Thrusts faster than before, the new position hitting that sweet spot with every thrust, and his dick rubbing between him and the seat, John knew he wouldn't last much longer.

 

* * *

 

Dean felt sweat dripping from his face and onto John's back. He wrapped a hand into his dark hair and lifted his head off the seat, wanting to hear the whimpers, moans, and screams. He thrust hard and fast, faster than he should. That name making this all the more sweeter and making him fuck harder than any pussy he's had in the lower forty-eight. He chuckled, glad that the sweetest lay he's had is back in his home state. His panting was drowned out by John's noises and the wet slaps of him ramming into his ass.

 

“I'm gonna come, baby. I'm gonna come so hard in you, wish you could feel me getting you wet huh? Bet ya do.” He was rambling now, like he always did when he was particularly enthusiastic and close. Didn't really care for John's response. His “uh-huhs” and “yeahs” sounding no different from his moans.

 

* * *

 

John wished he would've done this before. Better late than never, he supposed. He was glad his hair was being pulled back and he could get air in. Embarrassed though, at the sounds he was making. Sounding like a two bit cockslut in one of those seedy pornos he saw during his visit to a porn theater on a dare. Shame was pushed out from his thoughts when he felt teeth sink into his shoulder and the guy fucking into him slower, but harder, and the growls he let out sent John over the edge. Coming into the leather seat and tacking up his chest, he'd never felt as filthy before. The breath was pushed out of him by solid muscle collapsing onto his back as they both struggled to get air into their lungs.

 

Damn good fuck. His third ever, and he didn't even have to do the fucking himself. He smiled into the seat and wondered if the rumors were true. That it gets lonely abroad and in the trenches, the guys take whatever warm and wet thing will take them. He sure hoped so.

 

* * *

 

Dean woke to a smack to the back of his head.

 

“Dean!” A puberty addled voice yelled.

 

He groaned, pressing himself further into the pillow..

 

“Just because Dad skipped out on bringing me to school yesterday doesn't mean you can too.” Dean yelped and shivered when his blanket was ripped from on top of him and the window drapes were drawn open.

 

The front door closed and a deep voice called out, “Leave your brother alone, Sam. I'm takin' you.”

 

He heard Sam huff out and could almost hear the scowl on his face directed towards the voice. Sam's door slammed shut and Dean opened his lids to blaring sunshine. He groaned, quickly closed his eyes, and turned over towards the open door, Heavy boots shuffled through the small carpeted hallway and stopped in front of Sam's door.

 

“The hunt went fine by the way!” Dad said to the closed door, He paused for an answer and when none came, he sighed and shuffled into Dean's room.

 

Dean kept his eyes closed. Last night's lay called for a sleep 'till afternoon kind of day. Wondering how he got home anyways, he felt his bed shift when Dad sat on the edge. A palm rested on his face and a thumb caressed his cheekbone.

 

“You look more like him. Everyday,” Dad huffed through his nose and patted Dean’s face. The hand was jerked back when Sam threw open his door.

 

“Let's go, Dad!” Dean heard Sam and his stuffed backpack rustle down the hallway and out to the driveway.

 

The bed shifted again when Dad got up and stopped at the doorway.

  
“Get some sleep, son.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, criticisms, and kudos are very and always, welcome.


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